“Very well then, it had better rest. If there should be any difficulty about my being confirmed, of course we will explain it.”
“I wish every one showed themselves as well prepared!” half muttered the doctor; then, after long musing, “Well, Norman, I give up the scholarship. Poor Mrs. Anderson wants it more than we do, and if the boy is a shabby fellow the more he wants a decent education. But what do you say to this? I make Hoxton do you full justice, and reinstate you in your proper place, and then I take you away at once—send you to a tutor—anything, till the end of the long vacation.”
“Thank you,” said Norman, pausing. “I don’t know, papa. I am very much obliged to you, but I think it would hardly do. You would be uncomfortable at seeming to quarrel with Dr. Hoxton, and it would be hardly creditable for me to go off in anger.”
“You are right, I believe,” said Dr. May. “You judge wisely, though I should not have ventured to ask it of you. But what is to become of the discipline of the school? Is that all to go to the dogs?”
“I could not do anything with them if I were restored in this way; they would be more set against me. It is bad enough as it is, but, even for my own peace, I believe it is better to leave it alone. All my comfort in school is over, I know!” and he sighed deeply.
“It is a most untoward business!” said the doctor. “I am very sorry your schooldays should be clouded—but it can’t be helped, and you will work yourself into a character again. You are full young, and can stay for the next Randall.”
Norman felt as if, while his father looked at him as he now did, the rest of the world were nothing to him; but, perhaps, the driving past the school brought him to a different mind, for he walked into the house slowly and dejectedly.
He told his own story to Ethel, in the garden, not without much difficulty, so indignant were her exclamations; and it was impossible to make her see that his father’s interference would put him in an awkward position among the boys. She would argue vehemently that she could not bear Mr. Wilmot to think ill of him, that it was a great shame of Dr. Hoxton, and that it was dreadful to let such a boy as Harvey Anderson go unpunished. “I really do think it is quite wrong of you to give up your chance of doing good, and leave him in his evil ways!” That was all the comfort she gave Norman, and she walked in to pour out a furious grumbling upon Margaret.
Dr. May had been telling the elder ones, and they were in conversation after he had left them—Margaret talking with animation, and Flora sitting over her drawing, uttering reluctant assents. “Has he told you, poor fellow?” asked Margaret.
“Yes,” said Ethel. “Was there ever such a shame?”